“So, has the system ever not worked?” she asked, looking at me over the mouth of her beer bottle. “Has it ever been faulty?”
“No, not once,” I reassured her. “Nothing has ever gone wrong. It’s a very straightforward system and setup. The package gets delivered, we contact the company by phone, and they’ll walk you through the whole thing. We’ll run some tests, and that’s it.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to ask the same questions over and over, I just—”
“Lena, it’s not a problem, really. You have every right to ask as many questions as you like. That’s what this is all about. That’s what I’m here for.”
She stared at me, a penetrating gaze. I could see her concern, her worry. She was on edge again. The best I could do to alleviate her concerns was to repeat, as often as she needed to hear it, my confidence in the job we had planned. I had numerous testimonials from other clients. It was likely she had read some of them. But for some people, hearing what other people have to say is not enough. Some people want it straight from the horse’s mouth, and even then reserve judgment until it is perfectly clear in their own eyes that an endeavor can be a complete success. Such skepticism was healthy and I had no problem with it. Eventually all of my clients’ questions were answered and their concerns allayed, at least in regard to their safety in their home.
“Why do you do it?” She was still looking at me with that intent gaze.
I shrugged as I responded casually, “Because I want to help. Because I can help.”
“No.”
“No?” I raised my eyebrows.
“I mean, yes,” she said, with a quick shake of her head. She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Of course, I get that. But I know who you are. What you did. And what happened.”
I went very still at her words.
“And so I want to know why you do this. Why this, and not—” She broke off abruptly, but I knew where she was headed, even if she couldn’t say it.
No one had ever asked me that question. I gazed out toward the tree line while I considered it. I didn’t know if any of my previous clients had known who I was. If they had looked, the information was there. A simple Google search would provide all the information they needed. I couldn’t hide it. But everyone has a past, and I had mine. What I had done wasn’t exactly the most terrible thing in the world. And what I was doing now was not an attempt to resolve or assuage some lingering guilt.
I thought of Kael again, but this time I thought of what she was doing. I couldn’t even say what she was allegedly doing, since she had pretty much admitted to me that she had indeed committed the killings. I thought of what she was doing in comparison to what I had done. I looked back to Lena who was patiently waiting.
“I don’t have it in me to be a vigilante,” I told her with no hedging whatsoever. “I did what I did, but it’s not something I could continue doing. And I don’t think it’s a solution.” I paused for a beat, thinking, and then added, “I want to help. I don’t want to run around deciding who to kill and who to let live. I don’t even know how, beyond a certain point, anyone can even make that decision.”
“Sometimes it’s obvious,” she said.
“And sometimes it’s not, and that’s when it gets tricky. And I don’t like tricky.” I took a good swig of beer then, and looked out at the trees again. Thinking of Kael troubled me, and so did engaging in such a conversation with someone who was basically a perfect stranger. I made a point of not asking my clients why they sought me out. I didn’t require details, or a history. If they provided such, and other than Lena all of them had, that was fine. But it wasn’t necessary. The fact that they all came to me via word-of-mouth was the best and only substantiation I could ask for.
“I don’t mean to pry.”
I looked back at her. “I know. You’re just asking questions. But it’s not complicated. I’m not complicated. I really do just want to help. It’s very satisfying, doing what I do.”
That raised a smile from her. “I’m glad I met you, Amy Squires. You seem like a very kind and wonderful woman.”
I smiled and blushed at the same time. “That’s very nice of you to say.” I glanced at my beer bottle, then downed the remaining contents. “Thank you for the beer.”
“Thank you for joining me in such scandalous behavior.” She winked and reached for my bottle.
As we stood, I brought out my wallet and extracted one of my little-used personal cards. I held it out to her, saying, “If anything changes with the status of your order, call me. My cell number is on this card. Only call me for that reason. It’s the only time I hand these cards out.”
She took the card from me and looked it over. “What if I don’t need to call you?”
“Pass the card on to someone you think can use it,” I said simply.
That made her smile again. “I will definitely do that.”
She walked me around the side of the house to the Jeep. When we came to a stop, I inclined my head toward the driveway.
“Now that you’re installing a premium security system, maybe it’s time to fill in those tiger traps.”
“Ha!” she said, with a laugh. “That’s very funny! I’ll call for a load of gravel as soon as I get in the house, I promise. See you Monday, Amy.”
“See you then, Lena. Have a good weekend.” I tossed the folder onto the passenger seat, and was soon navigating my way around the treacherous potholes for the ride into town once more.
Chapter Thirty-Two
She has never been in love before, and if the timing were better, she would not leave and hurt Amy. But the CNN news flash and her picture on the television disturb her so badly she needs to be alone. To think. To plan.
Her first move is to backtrack to the Walmart Supercenter they passed on the way into Winchester. She slips on her gloves, dons her baseball cap, and loads up on snack food, bread, milk, a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, a box of black hair coloring, a tube of hair gel, and a pair of scissors. She needs only the last three items and abandons the bagged groceries in the shopping cart at the far end of the parking lot. She then hikes a few miles farther to an Express Stop gas station and occupies the women’s bathroom for half an hour. When she emerges, her dark blond hair is shorn to a couple of inches, gelled into spikes, and is raven black. She heads inside to the cashier and purchases a pair of mirror lens sunglasses and a to-go cup of sweet tea. When she exits, she slips around to the back of the building, crosses into the tree line, and makes her way through to the hotel she spotted, a Country Inn & Suites.
She weaves through the vehicles in the parking lot, jingling her keys in her palm, and makes her way to the front entrance. Two families are busy loading themselves and their luggage into their vehicles. She hangs back a second or two until a couple turns to go back inside, and she moves abreast them, adopts a wide smile and removes her sunglasses as they all enter the hotel foyer. As they move toward the front desk, she continues on in the direction of the elevators, where she sees a sign directing her to the dining room. Once there, she joins the handful of guests in line for the breakfast buffet. As she had hoped, no one gives her a second look. She grabs a muffin, some oatmeal, a glass of juice and a cup of coffee and makes for one of the middle tables. She glances around, confirms that she blends in, and then pulls her laptop out, her goal all along to access the hotel’s Wi-Fi.
It would never have occurred to her that the landlord of the run-down tenement would have installed an infrared security camera. But after researching a couple of online news articles she learns that with the assistance of the local police department in a hush-hush bid to cut down on crime in the area, that is exactly what was done. She thinks back to the flash of red she saw but couldn’t place, and curses herself for a fool. Still, with the changes she has made, the care she has taken, she feels she is safe. She finishes her meal without rushing, considers her options, and then pulls out her cell phone. She feigns looking at a message with a frown. She then pockets the phone
, packs up the laptop and leaves the dining room. Pulling on the ball cap again and donning the sunglasses, she heads down the hall to the side exit. Once outside, she heads back to the trees.
In the shade of a copse of oaks, she comes to a decision, one that surprises her. This will be the last such trip she will make. She could, she thinks, go on and on, killing pedophiles, making them pay for the harm they’ve done, and she would do that, but her recent mistake is cause for concern. That, and since meeting Amy, her thoughts are filled with her. Her entire self is filled with her. But she must finish this one, of that she is certain. She is headed back to the town of her birth. Full circle, she thinks. It seems right somehow.
And so she hitches her way out of Virginia and into North Carolina, heading for the town of Hills Valley. Her target is a man who was imprisoned briefly for sexual assault against a woman, but who served no time when charged with sexual assault against two minors who, young and afraid, could not be convinced to testify. He is currently stationed in a halfway house. As with all the others, though, his home address is posted. It takes her the rest of the day to reach her destination. She arrives in Hills Valley without incident, passes through town as the shadows are lengthening, and spends the night in a cheap motel near the outskirts. The next afternoon she retraces her path; her plan is to go to his house, to track his movements, to keep an eye on him. As she makes her way through the small downtown area, she once more crosses the parking lot in the center of town, and there she sees Amy’s Jeep. For some reason she is not surprised. She decides to put her plan on hold a while.
She fades back into the trees, and waits.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The hot morning was segueing into an even hotter afternoon. I didn’t have to be anywhere—the rest of the day was mine. Indeed, the entire weekend was mine. I was in a strange town and all I knew of it was my hotel and the pub I had frequented the night before. It wasn’t quite time for lunch, so I decided to park somewhere and go for a walk around the town center. I chose the lot I’d come upon the other evening when I’d almost gone searching for Kael. It was large and allowed up to three hours free parking. I headed for the breezeway that would lead me to the street.
Downtown Hills Valley was quaint, yet functional. The main street consisted of two lanes of traffic running north and south, with parallel parking on either side, again up to three hours free. The business buildings were small, mainly one story, but a few were two or three stories. Concentrated in the area was a coffee shop, the pub, a chocolatier, a jeweler, a wine shop, a pizzeria, a bookstore, a hardware store, and a handful of restaurants with sandwich boards out front that promised somewhat more eclectic fare than one would expect in a small town. Like hearts of palm and orange salad, or penne con polpette al sugo. I had no idea what either of those was. I also noticed, in addition to the local police department, the sheriff’s department, the courthouse, and the local newspaper. An antique shop, one of many I’d noticed on the drive through town, was nestled among a string of five different art galleries.
People walked up and down the sidewalks or enjoyed their lunch on the patios outside the various restaurants. The crape myrtle trees created just the right amount of shade from the blistering noontime sun. I finished my little tour of the town and decided on the pizzeria for lunch. The interior was cool and dimly lit, a welcome contrast to the outside. The place was spacious, with large windows in front, skylights in the ceiling, and a patio off the side. An impressive bar of lacquered blond wood took up most of an entire wall on the far side. The booth I chose was in a quiet corner with a view of the street.
When I left the pizzeria an hour later, the heat and humidity settled onto me like a cloak. I could feel myself instantly wilting. In the next moment, I thought of the pool at the hotel, and I was buoyed again. There was also the ocean, three hours to the east. I had checked the road atlas before I left home, and making such a trip didn’t seem outside the realm of possibility. I could make a day of it.
I headed back to the parking lot, feeling positive and energized. I had to pass the pub on the way, and saw Adam outside, wiping down a table. He looked up just as I came abreast.
“Hey, Amy,” he said, with a smile and a nod.
I was touched he remembered my name. “Hey, Adam.”
The simple exchange made me feel really good; I was grinning as I approached the Jeep. As a figure detached itself from the shadows of the trees lining the lot, my grin dissolved as my jaw loosened and my mouth dropped open.
“I love this Jeep,” Kael said as she got closer. “I would never be able to find you if not for this Jeep.”
* * *
Certain things will always bring out the kid in some adults. One of those is a pool on a hot summer day. No one else was using the hotel pool when we arrived; we hurried up to my room to change, then back down, where Kael wasted no time. She threw her towel onto a lounge chair, covered the distance to the pool with a short dash, and cannonballed in. I joined her a few seconds later. The cool water felt amazing as it closed over my head. When I surfaced, the taste of saltwater on my lips surprised me. It was the first saltwater pool I’d been in and it was an unexpected delight.
Kael surfaced just beyond me. She wiped water from her face with one hand and I saw her lick her own lips. “It’s salty!” she exclaimed, seeming pleased and indignant at the same time.
I laughed, and splashed water at her. She tried to duck, sputtering, and I flung myself away to escape recrimination. That lasted only a short while; it wasn’t a large pool. She came after me and grabbed the hand I held before me in a feeble attempt to ward her off. I was still laughing, and her eyes were bright, sparkling with good humor, as she pulled me toward her. In shallower water now, our feet touching bottom, she pushed me back against the tiled wall, moved closer, and my laughter died as I felt her thigh come up between my legs. The light in her eyes changed to reflect the heat that suddenly flared between us. She put her fingertips to my back; I placed my hands on her hips, and I felt her flat belly against mine as she put her lips to my mouth in a soft kiss.
When she looked at me again, her expression was grave. “I’ve missed you, Amy Squires.”
I ran my tongue over my lips, swallowed. “I’ve missed you too.”
We stayed like that a moment longer. “Come play with me,” she invited and launched herself back and sideways with a splash toward the deeper water.
I didn’t need a second invitation.
* * *
She kissed my belly, smoothing the palm of her hand down my thigh and then up again, before pulling herself up beside me on the bed. She put her arms around me and held me close, while I tried to calm my breathing.
“So,” she said softly and kissed the top of my head. “You missed me, huh?”
I laughed. It came out sounding a little choked. I coughed and cleared my throat, then leaned my head against her shoulder. “Yes, I’ve missed you. I probably shouldn’t say that, since I know it’ll just inflate your already massive ego, but—”
She smacked my hip lightly, making me jump.
“Ow! Hey!” I twisted slightly away. “No abuse after great sex.”
She rolled onto her back and turned her head, amused. “Is that what that was? Great sex?”
“Oh, yes,” I said “That was definitely great sex. Most definitely.”
“Agreed,” she said with a firm nod. She closed her eyes. “That was amazing sex.” She sounded decidedly smug.
I propped myself up on my elbow and studied her features. I knew what was coming, knew that it was inevitable, and I felt a wave of sadness slowly tumble through me.
“You’re not staying, are you?” I whispered.
She opened her eyes and turned her head on the pillow. She held my gaze for a handful of moments, before finally pressing her lips together. She shook her head, the barest of movements, but it was enough.
I sighed deeply. She looked as sad as I felt.
“No questions, right?” Her voice
was low, gentle.
I gave a nod and slowly sat up and turned away. We hadn’t drawn the drapes. On the third floor, there’d been no need. I looked out at the cloudless blue sky, and sighed again. “What are we doing?”
I felt her weight shift, felt her sit up, felt her hands on my shoulders, her breath in my ear. “Would you rather we’d done nothing? That nothing had happened between us?”
I bowed my head and my vision blurred. I gave a faint little snort and shook my head. I didn’t want to cry, there was no point in crying. I met her eyes in a sideways look. “I guess I want more,” I told her, simply and unapologetically. “I want to know what that would be like.”
Her gaze softened, her mouth parted. She took my hand in hers, and with a gentle tug, invited me to lie back on the bed. She then straddled me as easily as she ever had, and said softly, before covering my mouth with hers, “I can give you more, Amy.”
And true to her word, she did.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Kael left an hour later.
Earlier, I had rinsed and wrung the salt water from our boxers and bras, then taken them down to the guest laundry to dry them. While she took a quick shower, I ran to retrieve them. When I returned, she was dressed and finger combing her hair in front of the mirror. She took the clothing from me, placed it in her knapsack, and turned to me. I felt a sense of déjà vu. She smiled, brought the pack to her shoulder, and took a step toward me. When we came together, we kissed without holding each other. I felt the heat rise in my belly, and when we parted, I saw that heat reflected in her eyes. And then, without either of us saying a word, she turned and left the room.
For a while, I sat slouched on the edge of the bed, thinking of all the things I’d wanted to ask. We had yet to actually have a proper conversation, the kind where people exchange information, talk about things they have or don’t have in common, share things about themselves. I hadn’t been kidding when I said I wanted more, that I wanted to know what that would be like, yet I hadn’t actually planned on speaking it aloud. Now that I had, I felt a bit strange. Surely she must have wondered, if only idly, what I was doing in Hills Valley, just as I wondered the same of her, yet clearly she was even better at not asking questions than I.
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